


Untitled

by blueswan



Category: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:37:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueswan/pseuds/blueswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he grows up he wants to be Starbuck. Hotdog character piece post Maelstrom.</p><p>Originally posted March 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

The news travels fast; Kara's ship in pieces. The ready room is silent for a moment before the pilots are released, faces white and sharp from shock. Hotdog fades left as the rest of the crew heads for the bar. There's something pulling him back to the bunks; guesses he needs to be alone for a while.

He climbs into his bunk and pulls the curtain closed. Leans against the wall and tries to figure out what he feels. He'd like to meet the CAG on the flight deck and tell him - something. That it's not his fault, that he couldn't do anything, that everything will be all right in the end; it's Starbuck after all. But those words didn't help him back then, they are even less likely to help the CAG now.

Starbuck dead. Gone forever. No more overhearing her and Anders frakking, or Kara frakking herself with - with just her fingers he supposes, never heard anything to say otherwise. No more sharp barks of laughter, no more boozing it up, no more out-flying the Cylons or buzzing Galactica and wiggling her Viper's wings just for the joy of it.

Kara Thrace is dead, he tests the words carefully, and feels the weight of them settle in his chest. Since the day he was accepted for flight training, he's wanted to be just like her; one of the best, a pilot just little bit crazy and a whole lot hotter than he is now. Frak, he wanted to be Starbuck, accepted, admired, respected because she really is - was? - just that good.

He rolls to the edge of his bunk and looks into Kara's. The last place he saw her, where he watched her sigh those breathy sighs, and clutch her hands and arch into the air. Custom dictates that you see and hear nothing in the bunks, it's hard to put into practice when you're hot and horny and Kara is frakking herself right there. 

Hotdog wants - he doesn't know what - something. He eases himself into her bunk and lies still, closes his eyes. Tries to imagine her last dream, what - frak, he knows that - but yeah, who she was dreaming. Stretches his arms out and makes two fists, and takes shallow breathes. Who? Was it Anders? The husband, the guerrilla fighter, resistance leader, an all round nice guy who's incredibly hot? Or the CAG? He's heard her call him Lee, and seen the way the look at each other, but maybe that's because they've known each other for ever. Or it could be someone that he would never guess. One thing for sure, her bunk isn't going to tell him anything.

Hotdog lets his right hand drift down from the pillow, skimming his body until he reaches his crotch, unfastens his pants and slides his hand in. Jerks himself off fast and hard, wipes his hand off on the blanket.

He's still breathing hard and hazily thinking about a nap and whats for supper later today when he jerks upright and heaves his legs over the bunk while tucking himself back inside his clothes.

If Starbuck weren't dead, she'd kill him or mock him mercilessly. But she is dead, so he guesses it'd be the CAG who'd take care of it for her. If he gets caught here. If he doesn't get out of her bunk right now. Hotdog wonders how far down he could hold a viper together before the pressure blew her to bits, and knows the answer at the same time.

Not as far as Starbuck.


End file.
